


Name Your Poison

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn and Humor, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Sex, cat is a mopey drunk, slightly rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 23:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13468875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: It could be considered a rite of passage: the first time he ever sees his best friend's mum drunk.





	Name Your Poison

**Author's Note:**

> This, again came from the virtual dice + kink generator system, in this case I got "Cat/Theon, intoxication or altered states + teasing or tickling."

It could be considered a rite of passage: the first time he ever sees his best friend's mum drunk.

“Ow,” Mrs. Stark announces as he plops her down on her bed, perhaps not as carefully as he should have. He's a bit drunk himself. Robb has gone to drive Sansa back to her place, and Theon does not know when he became trusted enough to but Robb's mother to bed but he supposes they only had to make it up the one flight of stairs, which is something even Theon can manage.

“Sorry,” he announces breezily, and then thuds down next to her.

She gives him a suspicious look. “What are you doing?” she asks, squinting as if trying to keep herself from seeing double.

He shrugs. “I'm drunk too. I need somewhere to crash.” Really, he's just trying to fuck with her, and he fully expects her to remind him that they have a couch that he is more than used to sleeping on. But instead she just groans and mutters “fine,” before closing her eyes. She must be really drunk. But it's not like Theon can blame her: after all, she's seen him in worse states many times. Besides, they had this whole party to celebrate Sansa's fancy fashion internship in Paris, and then Arya decided it was the right night to drop on her mother that she wanted to go to uni in like fucking Italy or somewhere next year. If all Theon's babies were growing up and leaving him and he was slowly turning into dust, he'd probably be wasted too.

Things go quiet then, and Theon frowns at her, slipping into the same irrationally obnoxious mode he was always in a teenager. “Are you awake?”

She groans. “If I say no, will you leave me alone?”

He grins at her. “Nah. I'll just try and prove you're awake to have something to do. It'll get really annoying.”

Slowly, one of her eyes cracks open, and she sighs. “I don't see why it matters,” she mutters. “You're not here for me. You don't know me. No-one knows me.”

“Er,” says Theon, not really sure how to respond to that. “Are you okay, Mrs. Stark?”

Theon feels stupid then, ever more so when she screws up her face at the sound of it. “Mrs. Stark,” she practically spits. “That's what everyone calls me, you know? That or Mum. Do you know how long it's been since I heard my own fucking name?”

He blinks. This is not what he signed up for when he decided to invite himself to her bed. _Well, serves you right._ “Er, Catelyn, wasn't it?”

Really, given how wasted she is and the fact she's lying on her side, the nod she gives him is impressively sarcastic. Theon coughs, not sure where the conversation goes from here.

After a few seconds awkward pause, Mrs. – Catelyn's face starts crumpling in on itself. “I mean, my children mean the world to me,” she says, her voice trembling. “But they're all so grown up now, they don't need me anymore, and I–”

“Hey, hey, it's okay,” Theon says hurriedly as she starts choking on her words, reaching across and patting her shoulder. Part of him wonders if he should hug her or something, but given she's he's best friend's drunk mum who is crying while he's sharing a bed with her, he doesn't want to be misinterpreted or anything. “You're the best mum, you know that. Your kids all totally need you. Without you, Robb would go completely spare, I know that.”

A pause, and then she looks him in the eye. Theon squirms a bit under the intensity of her gaze. After a moment, she smiles softly. “Thank you, Theon,” she says, hurriedly wiping her face, trying to regain something like her usual composure. “Sorry, I'm such a mess. It's just, ever since Ned...”

Theon winces. He remembers he always used to joke Mr. Stark was so tightly wound one of these days he was just gonna drop dead from a heart attack, a joke that, even for Theon, lost most of it's humour when he actually fucking did. It's been almost five years now, and his wife makes a brave face about it, acts like she's moved on, but somehow Theon's never quite bought it.

“It's okay,” he says gently, and, the shoulder-patting seeming too stiff and formal but actually hugging her still seeming too intimate, he runs his fingers through her hair. “I'm not your kids. You don't have to be strong for me.”

And then he's caught off-guard by something warm suddenly pressed against his middle. “Thank you, Theon,” she mutters against her chest as she squeezes around his waist. _Um._ “I'm proud of you, you know? I thought you were a bad influence when you and Robb first met, but... you've really turned your life around, and I'm proud. You should know that.”

“...Thanks,” he says awkwardly, uncertain whether to pull away from her embrace or lean into it. With her squeezing him like that and telling him how proud she is of him, it's easy to remember why he had such a crush on her when he was sixteen, which is maybe not the best thing to remember at this exact moment. Shit. “But like, I'm still kinda a fuck-up. You should see the list of girl's numbers on my phone. I wouldn't be that proud.”

Perhaps he's trying to remind her who he is, Theon Greyjoy, teenage womaniser and general wreck of repressed neuroses, to frighten her off. Instead she just burrows further into her chest. “Well at least you can with girls,” she tells him. “I've not been able to manage anything more than two dates since... since...”

Theon frowns. “I never thought of it like that,” he says, and then realises that wasn't terribly tactful when she's still drunkenly grieving her late husband. “But like, you don't have to feel bad about that. I can't fucking date for shit either.” Granted, he doesn't want to suggest she emulate his pattern of hook-ups. “So what if no guy's good enough for you? You don't need no man, you strong independent woman, you.”

She chuckles, and unfortunately, the vibration makes his cock stir, just for a second. _Shit, what am I doing. She's Robb's mum!_ Luckily, she doesn't seem to notice. “I know,” she says, poking her head up to look at him. “I suppose I'm just... lonely, sometimes.”

A pause, and then he sighs. “You're a mopey fucking drunk, aren't you?”

Her jaw drops open. “Ow!” Theon then realises she's grabbed a pillow and hit him with it. “Hey!”

She huffs above him, then tosses the pillow aside. “That wasn't fair,” she mutters, settling back down by his side.

Theon sighs. “Come on, I didn't mean it like that,” he says. She looks skeptical. “I was just making an observation. 'S not your fault – it's everybody else's for giving you so much sadness to repress.”

She still seems dubious, but eventually, she sighs in defeat. Then, Theon grins to himself, like he always does when he's just had a terrible idea.

“I can make you a happy drunk.”

“What?”

And then he pounces on her, and she lets out a noise of alarm as he rolls her onto her back, pinning her to the bed before he aims his fingers at her ribs and _tickles_.

He doesn't know how he knows she's ticklish; presumably, Robb must have told him at some point. It's a good thing he didn't misremember though, and that as soon as he touches her she starts to squirm and giggle. “Theon – what are you–”

“See,” he grins at her, “happy.”

“I'm not – happy – you're just–” she says through her helpless laughter, but when he decides to pause and give her some respite, he finds she's still grinning at him, breathless. “You're ridiculous.”

He shrugs. “Yeah I am,” he says. “It's what gets me all the chicks.”

She scoffs fondly at that, but then Theon remembers where he is, in her bed kneeling above her, which is really a more than compromising position. He does not know how he'd explain if anyone was here to ask. His sober brain tells him he should go now before he does something that means Robb will kill him as soon as he's back, but his sober brain isn't really in control now.

There's a hand on his jaw, and he chuckles as he looks down and realises she's touching him. “What are you doing?”

“You've grown up so much,” she answers, sounding awe-struck by the fact. “I didn't realise.”

Theon does the only reasonable thing under these circumstances.

He leans down and kisses her.

Her hand finds his shirt immediately, presumably to push him away, to slap him and shove him back down the stairs, but no, she ends up pulling him closer, sighing as she parts her lips underneath him and he brazenly sticks his tongue into her mouth, and she groans softly, nails digging into his shoulder.

The kiss is wet and clumsy, they're both still pretty drunk, but Theon knows he has skills even when inebriated and it's not long before he feels Mrs. Stark's – _Catelyn's_ – leg hitching up by his side, letting him press against her further. He moans as he slides in between the space she leaves, his cock getting inevitably hard as he grinds against her thigh, then he remembers who she is. “Shit,” he says, breaking from her mouth a second, “sorry–”

“It's okay,” she tells him with a gentle smile, and Theon can't bring himself to disagree. _Robb is actually going to kill me to death,_ he thinks as he kisses her again, but as she wraps her legs around his waist it's very hard to actually care.

The kiss doesn't stay so innocent for long, him writhing on top of her and her digging her teeth into his lip as she reaches down and squeezes his cock through his jeans. _Ah, so she's feisty in bed._ He did always wonder. Grinning into her mouth, he grabs one of her tits in return, maybe a little too roughly, but the little yelp she makes against his lips sounds anything but displeased. Hey, he's wanted to touch her tits since he was like thirteen, he can be forgiven for being a little overenthusiastic.

Roughly she struggles with the button of his jeans, failing and cursing a couple of times before she manages to get it open and his zip comes down. She pulls away from the kiss to tug the jeans down his legs, and Theon just remembers to fetch a condom out of the back pocket before schucking them off. She squeezes him again through his briefs and he groans, thrusting into her hand. He still half-expects to wake up and be sixteen and having a wet dream again. But when he doesn't, he gets rid of the underwear instead, his prick sticking out somewhat absurdly from under the tails of his shirt. She lies back beneath him, proper black pencil skirt pushed up around her waist, eyes sparkling.

“You're bigger than I expected,” she tells him.

Theon chuckles, not rising to the bait. “You think about my cock a lot, Mrs. Stark?”

At that, she just shrugs. “Well, the way you go on about it, it's hard not to have given it some thought,” she says. Then she pauses. “And if we're going to do this, you probably ought to call me by my name.”

There's a silence, strange and slightly melancholy, that makes Theon feel all drunk again when he might have just been starting to sober up. “Right,” he says dumbly, and then he does what seems most reasonable in the moment: he leans down and kisses her, Catelyn, again, and she sighs and leans up into it. He pushes two fingers under the fabric of her knickers and she eagerly raises her hips to let him discard them entirely. She shivers as he traces along her slit, finding her hot and wet and practically pulsing for him, and fuck, it's so tempting to just push in and plow away.

But, he reasons, perils of widowhood, she probably hasn't had it in awhile – he should be making a special effort to make it good for her. So before he knows it he's halfway down the bed, head between her thighs, cheekily nipping at her pale white skin and leaving a red toothmark.

She gasps, her hand finding his hair and grasping. “Theon,” she says and he just chuckles before he runs his tongue, messy and obscene, all over her cunt, circling her clit with his tongue furiously. She moans, loud and shameless, and for a second Theon wonders about the rest of her children, isn't she worried they'll hear? But, he reasons, they're all big kids now, they're old enough to understand that sometimes their mum wants to get laid too.

Her pushes his tongue inside and fucks her with it, she gasps shallowly, her hand in his hair tightening. “Harder,” she growls at him and he obeys, before pulling back out and pushing two fingers into her instead, sucking her clit as he fingerfucks her. She moans, nails digging into his scalp. “Yes, fuck, deeper, curl your fingers, good boy, little right, now faster, faster faster faster...”

He obeys her instructions as her hand pushes him down further against her cunt, the sharp salty taste of her filling his mouth, and fuck he's so hard he's grinding against the bed just for a little relief. He relishes the way her words get ever louder and less coherent as she arches under the force of his movements, her body tensing like she's about to snap, and then she gasps: “I'm coming!”

Suddenly her whole body seems to tremble underneath him, and there's a rush of fluid against his mouth, catching him off-guard. Still, he's a good boy and he keeps pushing her through it, not pulling fingers back out of her until her hot, tight muscle unclenches around them, and her body seems to relax. Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, laughing. “Wouldn't have thought you were a squirter, _Catelyn_.” He drawls the name, dragging it out, and she blushes faintly but also rolls her eyes.

“Up here.”

She grabs him by the shirt he is for some reason still wearing, pulling him up so they're face to face again. Then she pauses. “Wait. I want you naked.”

“Older women. So bossy,” he muses as she starts struggling with the buttons of his shirt, and then he frowns a moment, wondering if she'll be angry, or worse, upset that he just pointed out how old she is. But she just scoffs.

“We know what we like,” she tells him, her fingers slipping on his second button, and if he knew he was gonna get wasted and bang his best friend's mother he would have worn a t-shirt. “And I've been overhearing you gloating about your cock for more than a decade now. I feel like I should see if it lives up to all the hype.”

He feels he ought to help out with the buttons, except he just ends up tangling their arms together and getting in the way, and she slaps his hands to make him stop. After by some miracle she manages to get the fourth button open she then clearly loses her patience and just pulls it up over his head, and Theon winces as it catches around his ears, but after a few tugs she manages to get it off.

Cat lies back, biting her lip as she examines him head to toe, and then it's Theon's turn to blush faintly as he realises he's totally naked, while she's still completely clothed – if very dishevelled. He's pretty sure he shouldn't find that thought as hot as he does, but you know what, he's rolling with it.

“You do look good,” she tells him, and he grins at her.

“Always happy to please.”

She chuckles. “You ready?” she asks.

“Ah, give me a second.”

Awkwardly, he fumbles for the condom, before tearing it open and rolling it on with practiced efficiency. She raises an eyebrow. “I'm impressed.”

“Hey, you think that's impressive, you should see what I'll do with it next,” he answers, and decides to push inside before she gets a chance to retort. He takes himself in hand and lines himself up with her slit, pushing just the very head inside. She gasps. “Is that okay?”

She nods, biting her lip again, and so Theon decides to keep going, pushing deeper in and relishing the tight heat that slowly closes around the length of him. She lets out a long, deep groan as he fills her up, nails digging into his shoulders again. Eventually he's in as deep as he can possibly get, and he pauses a second, sighing at how she clenches around him. She whines softly, her eyes drifting shut. “Can I move now?” he asks her.

“For god's sakes Theon, I have five children, I'm not a blushing virgin,” she scoffs, keening up towards him. “Fuck me already.”

Theon frowns, and then he does what he's told, giving her a sharp, hard thrust that makes her gasp. “You're still my best friend's mum,” he points out. “Can't hurt to be careful.”

She hisses as he starts to fuck her properly, reaching up and pulling his hair again, winding her legs around his waist. “I'll tell you when I want you to be careful,” she whispers in his ear.

_Well then._

So he figures, like she said, she knows what she likes, and he fucks her hard and fast and to his surprise she loves it, heels digging into the small of his back as she moans underneath him, thrusting up against him and tugging at his hair to urge him on, mewling in his ear “harder, faster, there!” and when she grabs his arse hard enough to leave nail marks there too, he moans and starts shoving himself into her even harder, trying to bury himself whole. When she slaps his arse with a grin, he gasps aloud and shudders from head to toe. “Vixen,” he calls her.

She just laughs at that, and he resumes his pace, making her cry out in pleasure. “Yes, yes, yes!” Fuck, she'll wake the whole damn house, but hell if Theon is stopping now.

He groans and leans down to kiss her again, rough and messy and possibly drooling on her chin, before he moves and bites the side of her neck instead. She cries out. It's a bad idea to leave a hickey, he thinks as he sucks at the skin, given how much Robb is already going to kill him, but he wants to. He wants to leave his mark on her.

She's pulling his hair again, arched halfway off the bed as she keens toward his thrusts, and he reaches down and squeezes her arse as he fucks her just as hard as she squeezed his. She moans. Then with his other hand he finds her clit again, rubbing messily as he gives her every inch of his cock.

“ _Theon_ ,” she moans as he drives himself towards the breaking point, and it sounds like she's getting there too, her voice getting louder, higher, more desperate. “Yes, fuck, harder, there, yes!”

A tremble takes over her whole body and he gasps as she clenches vice-like around his length, coming with a long, drawn out moan like something out of porn, and that is too much for Theon, he spills into the condom with a deep groan. Fuck, it would be sweet to fill her with his come – but she's probably just young enough to still maybe get knocked up, and besides, it would take some work for her to trust him that much.

She sighs and collapses underneath him, her legs unwinding from his waist. He sighs and pulls himself out of her, unrolling the condom and throwing it, er, somewhere. Then the effects of his orgasm and lingering drunkenness become apparent, and he collapses by her side. To his relief, she's somehow managed to pull the duvet up, and he lets her toss it over him.

To his surprise, just before he passes out she curls up against him beneath the covers, head against his shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

Theon pauses. _Hey, it's all in a day's work,_ he's tempted to tell her. Or he could point out how it wasn't exactly a hardship. But instead he ends up asking, “what for?”

“I'm not quite sure,” she admits. “But still: thank you.”

* * *

“I'm going to kill you.”

Theon wakes with a splitting headache and the sun streaming directly into his eyes, and groans. Then he gets his wits about him and sees someone standing directly overhead, red hair and blue eyes blazing with fury. “Er... hi mate,” he says awkwardly.

“You had sex with my mother?!”

Okay, he's not getting out of here that easy. Slowly, he turns his head to the side and sees Catelyn – Mrs. Stark, fast asleep, no longer curled into his side but still facing him. “Seems so,” he murmurs.

“I'm actually going to kill you to death,” Robb tells him. Theon sighs. Figures. “Why?!”

_Because she's hot and hadn't had it in awhile,_ he's tempted to say, but if there's any way this doesn't end with him getting punched in the face he'd like to find it. “I don't know, I was drunk, she was drunk, we were both up for it – it just kind of happened, okay?” Robb huffs, clearly not convinced. “Look, she was upset after that whole thing Arya said about going to Italy. I was trying to comfort her, things got out of hand. So really, you should be shouting at your little sister for having terrible timing.”

Robb hesitates a moment, and then lets out a deep sigh. “Yeah, she and Sansa had a big fight about that last night,” he mutters. “And Arya's not sure she wants to go anymore, if it'll be that hard on Mum. But anyway, that's not the point!”

He remembers he's still angry halfway through that sentence, but before he can return to planning Theon's grizzly murder, the argument is interrupted a deep groan. “Robb, if you have to kill everyone I have sex with, because you've decided that's your business somehow, could you please do so quietly? My head is killing me.”

Theon turns his head and realises that they woke Mrs. Stark with all their hullaballoo. Shit. She still doesn't open her eyes, while Robb's jaw drops open, not sure who to be angry at, before he turns to Theon. “This isn't over, Greyjoy,” he says before storming out. Still, Theon lives another day.

But that still leaves him in bed with his best friend's mother with one hell of a hangover, and he's not sure how to handle that situation. He's been through some awkward mornings after before, but jesus. “Er,” he says, slowly trying to push himself up from under the duvet, before remembering how naked he is and it's the middle of fucking winter and _nope_. “Should I – go?”

There's a pause. “You can if you like,” she says, but he could swear she kind of sounds sad about it. “But I don't mind if you stay. Just – don't expect me to do anything, because my head really is killing me and I'll fall back asleep any second now.”

Theon thinks this over a moment, then settles back down, telling himself it's too cold to get up right now anyway. So he lies there by Catelyn's side, watching her smile in her sleep.

 


End file.
